Look
by Liv Pierce
Summary: A Marriage Law story. Hermione and every other of age magical citizen is subject to the new law: Marry or be banished. very AU, but hopefully as little OCC as possible.
1. Chapter 1

"There's not much you can do, Ms. Granger. As of last September you are of age—whether your birth certificate says so or not. I'm sure you know that you will be receiving offers as soon as your name appears on the lists. I can only hope you will choose wisely," Professor McGonagall turned to leave, stopping before she opened the door, "I truly am sorry for my part in this."

"Professor?" Hermione near whispered.

"Yes, Ms. Granger?"

"Is there anyone else here who-who is being forced …" she stopped, unable to continue.

"To marry? No, There isn't anyone else."

"Thank you, Professor."

McGonagall was wrong, however. There was one other person in Hogwarts Castle who was being forced into matrimony. He was, at that moment, staring at the list of prospective brides, still rolled up and sealed with Ministry of Magic's official seal.

Drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair, he sighed, not a sigh of exasperation, but a sigh of unwelcome resolution. Grabbing the scroll of parchment and clenching it in his closed fist, he stalked out of the room, his robes billowing behind him.

Minutes later he was in front of a stone eagle, a seemingly normal, albeit large, statue.

"Lemon drop," he muttered, his face contorting with bitterness as though he had actually tasted the candy and not merely said the name.

The eagle began to move, a stairway appearing as it did. He took the steps two at a time, quickly coming to a closed door.

"Severus, come in," came a voice from within before Severus had a chance to raise a hand to knock.

The door opened with hardly a push and revealed a white haired, bearded older man sitting behind a desk.

"Albus, I don't want this." He held up the now crumpled scroll and waved it before the older man's face to make his point.

"I'm sorry?" Albus asked as though he had not heard.

"I. Do. Not. Want. This." He tossed the scroll onto the desk, " I will not force some woman to marry me, to bear my children. Even I know that a life and family should not be built upon a law—Ministry made or otherwise." The last word came out with disgust.

"Severus, it is either this or banishment. You would lose your job here and your wand. You can not possibly be serious."

"You don't think I haven't thought of that? I know the consequences, but I also know the consequences that a forced marriage bring. Again, I do not want that list. In fact, you can have this, too. I'd rather you break it than anyone at that so-called ministry." He pulled his wand out of the pocket of his robes and laid it on Dumbledore's desk.

"Severus, just look at the list. Perhaps there's someone on there you could get to know, or someone you already know. It could work."

"Albus, I've made my decision. There's no one on that list that I wish to marry and no one who would wish to marry me."

"Just look. You could find someone to save from a life far worse than marriage to you. You would doing some woman a favor, and that alone would put you in her good graces."

"No."

"Severus, look."

"Absolutely not."

"Just look." Albus held the parchment out to Severus.

"Will it make you shut up?" Snape snatched the list out of Dumbledore's hand and sat down, breaking the seal and unrolling the parchment all in one fluid motion. His eyes moved down the list quickly.

"Non—," he began to say, as his eyes trailed the end of the list, stopping as the newest name magically appeared, "Albus? Since when is Ms. Granger of legal age?


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not, regretfully, own the wonderful world that is Harry Potter, nor do I own the characters who make that world so magical.

An: Thank you so much to the wonderful reviewers who replied so quickly to _Look_! I hope this second installment is up to par and you all enjoy it.

"My parents spent the better part of two years in a small, third world country. They were giving what they said 'desperately needed dental care to the devastatingly under privileged'. Sometime soon after they arrived there they found out that they were expecting me. Dentistry has always been as important, if not more important than their daughter, so it never crossed their minds to return to England or even seek out a doctor who was giving free medical treatment there. They simply went on with their lives as though my birth was just around the corner. I like to think that they were happy when I was born, but I don't know if that was true or not, they were so wrapped up in the dentistry. They never properly recorded my birth date or birth time, so when someone suggested that they get a birth certificate, they had to estimate when I was born—they simply wrote down the date and time that they were getting the certificate. That makes me about four months and a few days older than what anyone suspected." Hermione stopped and turned in her seat to face Professor McGonagall, "So the time turner had nothing to do with my being older—it was my irresponsible parents."

Professor McGonagall nodded her head. She was glad that she had played no part in the premature aging of Ms. Granger. Deep down she cared for the girl more than she'd like to admit and hated the thought that it was her fault that Hermione now had to make the biggest decision in her young life. They were currently in Professor Dumbledore's office, where Hermione was now telling her story for the second time.

Dumbledore sat with his hands supporting his chin. For a few moments he did nothing but stare into air, contemplating Hermione's story. There was nothing worse than parents that did not care enough for their children to even properly record their birth. "Ms. Granger, have you known of this your whole life?"

"No. I wrote my parents about the law and mentioned that it came as a complete shock, seeing as I wasn't due to turn eighteen for another four months. They wrote me back explaining about the dentistry trip and the birth certificate mix up."

"Well, it seems its up to me to be the bearer of good news today. I've found a suitor who is willing to allow you to stay at Hogwarts and complete your final year. He will also allow you to go to University if you wish, he said as much himself." Dumbledore didn't add the fact that this suitor had yet to agree to remain in the wizarding world.

"Professor, I thank you for finding someone, really I do, but I haven't made up my mind yet as to whether I should remain here or return home. I will not force some man to marry a bookworm, no marriage should be built upon a law." She said the last defiantly, unaware that she had nearly repeated Snape's words perfectly.

"Ms. Granger, you have no other option. You can not give up your future in the wizarding world, because some silly law said it was either that or marriage. I will not let you."

"Professor, you can't stop me if I wish to leave. It's as simple as that. If I don't want marriage and children yet, I will not have it, and that's all there is to it." Hermione stood, visibly upset, both at the prospect of losing the only world she loved and at the tone of voice Dumbledore had used. She walked to the door, pausing as she heard Dumbledore speak.

"Just think about it, Hermione."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Severus, you should talk to her. Perhaps if she knew who she would be marrying it would make it easier for her to stay." Dumbledore now sat in his office, across from Snape.

"Albus, you've forgotten that I haven't made my mind up yet either. And how do you figure it would make it easier for her to stay if she knew it was either me or a much, much older man. I'm not much better, still 20 years her senior and ugly as sin. How would _that_ make this easier?!"

"You're someone she knows, Severus. That alone makes it easier. Besides, if I remember correctly, you had a way with the ladies when you were a student." Albus said with a twinkle in his eye.

"Those were **flings**, Albus, flings. Nothing marriage could be based on. But how should I expect you to know that when you've never been married yourself?" Snape's temper was catching up to him and he felt it rising, causing him to say the last part without much thought.

"No, I've never been married, Severus," Dumbledore said quietly, "but I have been in love and I know that everyone should experience that once in their lives. Perhaps it will take a forced marriage to make you spend enough time with someone to get to know them and perhaps even grow to love them."

For the second time that day, Dumbledore watched as someone left his office mad. Severus stalked to the door, his hand clenching the knob, as Dumbledore spoke, "Talk to her, Severus. She needs someone who truly understands."


	3. Chapter 3

"Go Away!" Hermione shouted at the knock on her door. She looked behind her at the door that faced her back, only beginning to write on the school in front of her when she was sure that the unwelcome visitor was gone. As she placed quill to paper, the door opened, uninvited.

"Ms. Granger, I am not one of your ruddy school mates that you can just shout at whenever you please." Snape entered the room and glance around, quickly assessing his surroundings and finding Hermione at the desk, her back still to him.

"Professor I'd much rather not have company at the moment. As you well know—considering you assigned it—I've got a three foot parchment due tomorrow. Besides, you shouldn't be in the Head Girls' room. The other students, gossips that they are, will talk."

"Let them talk, Ms. Granger. I am a professor, you are Head Girl. I am here to discuss your duties as such, nothing more."

"My duties?" Hermione turned from the desk, quill still in hand, "My duties were explained to me very clearly by Professor McGonagall. I think I know my duties."

"You _think_. Ms. Granger, I never thought I'd say this, but you think too much. You're so busy thinking that common sense has left you for other, more spacious minds. If you were to welcome common sense as you welcome thought you would realize that your duties as Head Girl are in jeopardy from a recent law that was passed. How do you suggest you be Head Girl when you're banished to the muggle world? In the many centuries Hogwarts has existed, there has never been a replacement Head Girl and there has never been one banished from this world."

"I've read Hog …"

"Hogwarts: A History. Yes, I know you've read it. This entire bloody school knows you've read it. Do you mind answering me? How do you suggest you maintain your status as Head Girl when you're in a muggle school, you're wand broken in the rubbish bin?"

"You know very well I couldn't do anything if I'm banished!" Hermione's voice rose, anger flooding her face.

"Then why are you considering abandoning the school when you're supposed to be the highest level of role model here?" Snape had been pacing in front of Hermione's chair, but stopped suddenly to pull a chair up to hers. "Why?"

"How can I be a good role model when I subject myself to a law I don't believe should be? How can I be a good role model if I'm married and forced to have children—both of which will require me to leave Hogwarts? How can I perform my duties if I'm at some wizard's manor? You tell me that."

"You find a wizard that will allow you to stay in school." Snape said it as though it were the simplest thing in the world.

"Do you think any of these would let me stay in school? Do you?" She pulled open a drawer in the desk and pulled petition scrolls out, tossing them at Snape as she did. "Lessee, Malfoy, Avery, Knott, Crabbe, Goyle … honestly, most of them must have killed their wives the second they found they could get someone younger through legal force. But you tell me, in your expert opinion, which of these suitors would allow me to stay in school, not spend every waking minute either by their side or locked in some small room, only let out when I can do something for them?"  
"They wouldn't. You must have others. The Weasleys would certainly …"

"Professor," she interrupted, siging, "Bill is married, Charlie is engaged, the twins each petitioned their girlfriends and Percy lives in America now, he's not subject to the law anymore. And I won't get anymore petitions, before you try to throw that option at me. I have a week before I have to decide, and most petitions have been sent out. So it is either one of these buffoons or banishment. Now if you wish to say anything more, tell me what to do. Otherwise please leave."

Snape had tossed all but one petition in the trash. He picked the remaining one up off of his lap and laid it on Hermione's desk. "Here's your choice Ms. Granger." He walked to the door and heard Hermione gasp in shock as she turned the scroll, so that the name on it faced her. "Let me know you're decision, it may just be mine, too."


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own it, sadly. I wish I were brilliant enough to, but I don't.

"This is hardly appropriate, Professor. How do you expect me to respond?" Hermione had sat for what felt like hours in her room after opening the scroll that Severus had handed her. She finally got her wits about her and headed to Snape's classroom. Now she was holding the scroll in one hand, using it to make her point.

"It is very appropriate, Ms. Granger, given the circumstances. And I expect you to respond however you wish. I do not have any expectations from you, other than that you _will_ make a decision." Snape was now the one sitting at a desk, and he leaned back comfortably in his chair, "But I will remind you, that your decision affects not only you."

"Use guilt trips often, Professor?" Hermione asked with a smirk as she sat in a chair that usually held clumsy potion students, "You do quite well making one feel guilty."

"Not my intention at all, Ms. Granger, though if it helps my situation, all the better." Snape leaned forward in his seat, and place his hands on the desk in front of him. "Do you have an answer? I'm not a patient man, Ms. Granger, and if I'm to change my life completely, I'd like to know whether I'm to make room in my drawers or pack them."  
"I should make you wait till the very last moment. For once someone has the control in a situation with you, perhaps I'll spend my last two days relishing the feeling."

"If that's how you plan to act, I'll pack now, make the decision for you." Snape detested the thought of losing the upper hand in any situation, especially this one. "Now, should I pack now or are you going to tell me?"

"Fine, if you insist."

"I insist."

"You're sure."

"Absolutely."

"Well then …"

A/N: Thank you again to all my lovely, wonderful, magnificent reviewers. You make my day and inspire me to write. Now, I know this is a cliffhanger of sorts, and I—along with everyone else—don't like them, but it felt appropriate. And I know that it is short, very short, but I thought I should get something up and I like it short like this. So until next time …


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Don't own it. Not at all. How sad is that?**

"Ms. Granger!" Snape shouted in frustration. He wasn't one to be toyed with and her childish game was getting on his nerves, "Get on with it!"

"Such temper," Hermione muttered, more to herself than to anyone else, "Of course, yes, I'll marry you." She had always imagined saying those words in a moment of passion, to a man she loved. He didn't have to be on one knee, but she always assumed he would be in love with her and she with him. She was sensible, however, and didn't allow herself to dwell on what wouldn't be.

"Good." Was the only response that came from the man sitting across from her. He really had little else to say, could not think of anything for the life of him, except for a question that had been nagging at him since Dumbledore had first suggested he petition for the hand of Ms. Hermione Granger. "You explained why the elder Weasley's could not petition you, but what of the current bumble head that roams these halls? Or Mr. Potter for that matter?" The answer, he thought, could prove useful.

"They were never an option." She said simply, but with a disapproving glance for her husband-to-be, she extended her explanation. "Harry's dating Ginny. He would never want to leave her and I would never ask him to. And Ron, while pureblooded, isn't quite at the age where the law affects him. He's got a few months, and he should have his freedom until he absolutely has to give it up."

Snape nodded, once, quickly, barely noticeable. So she was playing noble, refusing to trap one of her best friends, simply because their lives could be better than her own, at least for a time. He wondered, briefly, how she felt that neither one seemed to be insisting that she marry them, but threw the thought out of his mind as soon as it entered. It shouldn't matter to him. It _didn't_ matter to him. He had found a way to stay in the wizarding world without having to bound and gag a witch to have her marry him. He was a bit shocked, actually.

Hermione fidgeted in the chair she had sat in. Bloody thing, so uncomfortable, she thought to herself as she watched Snape think. She didn't have the upper hand in this anymore. She had given her decision and lost all hold she had had. She gave a second's thought to the fact that she _could_ make his life miserable, become the nightmare of a bride she had always heard stories about. Demand that there be both a wizarding and a muggle ceremony. Insist on some outlandish outfit for him to wear. Throw a fit when the flowers weren't the exact shade of red she wanted. Unconsciously, she smiled a tiny evil smile, as she thought of Snape partaking in a Gryffindor themed wedding, all reds and golds.

"What are you thinking about?" The potions professor looked at the girl that would soon become his young wife. He normally had no care for what others thought, and really didn't care in this situation either, but that smile and the malicious joy in her eyes intrigued him.

"Nothing." She said quickly, realizing as he spoke that he could probably care less about how the wedding went. "Just trying to decide when the best time for a wedding would be. It has to be within two weeks after I sign your petition and return it to the Ministry. I only need a few days to get a dress and tell my family. We could do it by the end of the week." Get it over with, she thought. She had never been one to put things off and this was no exception. It was Monday now; she could be ready by Thursday.

"Friday then. That's fine with me. Anything else?" He had reverted back to his completely curt state, wanting her to leave so he could have a few moments of his day to himself before dinner. He had had classes that morning, met with Dumbledore in the early afternoon, and had spent the rest of his day either speaking to Hermione or grading papers, his mind on nothing but her impending answer.

"No." She stood to leave, smoothing her skirt of wrinkles and turning toward the door. She had owls to send and needed to speak to Dumbledore once more. He should know that the school wouldn't be losing its head girl.

Snape watched her leave. He took note of the way her skirt fell, shorter than it should have been, inches above the knee. Her sweater was tight, but the way she wore it lead one to believe that the tightness fell to a lack of time to think about sizes rather than an intent to make teenage boys unable to concentrate. There would be definite bonuses to marrying Hermione Granger, he thought before mentally slapping himself. She was twenty years his junior and probably disgusted by the thought of the clause in the law that stated they had to produce offspring within the first year and a half. He was a slightly evil man, reformed Death Eater and all, but even he had reservations about the more intimate parts of marriage with a girl not even out of school.

**A/N: Thanks to all the wonderful reviews I've gotten. I hope this clears up any question any of you may have had about why, exactly, Harry and Ron were not options. Now, I make my humble apologies, asking to be forgiven for the lack of update. I won't make any excuses as to why I haven't, but I will remind that I **_**am**_** a senior in high school and that it is a **_**very**_** hectic time of life. Enjoy the story, reread, review and wait patiently. I promise the next update won't take nearly as long.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I. Do. Not. Own. ****Anything.****Sad, right?**

There was nothing left for Hermione to do. Her parents had been told, as had her friends and the Weasley family. The order knew, too. She really didn't know who to expect to show up for the small ceremony she had planned. Her parents were shocked—and understandable so—by the news that their daughter would be marrying a man nearly as old as they were. They didn't like the idea in the least and had wasted no time telling Hermione as much. Many tears were shed by both Hermione and her mother and angry words were shouted by her father. All in all, the scene had gone little like Hermione had secretly hoped it would.

The rest were a bit more understanding, but only in the sense that they knew fully the repercussions of ignoring the marriage law and the other choices Hermione had had when deciding on a future husband. They knew that no other choice would let her stay in school, let alone get a job or go anywhere they weren't. As much as they understood the reasons, they still didn't like the only good choice. The Weasley's were especially indignant. They saw themselves as the Wizarding family that Hermione didn't have, the family that could understand and protect the young girl from the Wizarding things in life that her real parents could not. Snape was one of those things that they felt they needed to protect her from. He was too old to marry an 18 year old girl, came the reasoning from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. He would hurt beyond her wildest nightmare, was the thought process of the Weasley brothers. He was ugly and foul, was the only Weasley girl's protest. Hermione only shook her head and restated her reasons for accepting his petition: she could stay in school, she knew him and knew he would never treat her the same horrible way any other man who had petitioned her would, Dumbledore would never let him lay a finger on her if he didn't believe it right. And didn't they all trust Dumbledore's instinct? The members of the Order of the Phoenix all felt nearly the same way the Weasley family felt, perhaps not to the same protective degree, but there was still an apprehension to their feelings of the upcoming union. Harry was rather understanding of the entire thing. Of course, he had his doubts and his moments of protectiveness—especially when goaded on by Ginny—but, for the most part, once Hermione had explained her stance on the subject, he wished her congratulations and good luck and gave her a hug. Hermione couldn't have been happier that finally someone understood.

There _was_ one other thing she had to do and that was go through with the marriage. She had to stand before Dumbledore and whoever else decided to show up and vow to spend the rest of her life with Severus Snape. Vow to love him in sickness and in health, for better or worse. Could she do it? She found her mind often going to that question wondering if she could utter the words that would tie her forever to the old potions professor. Hermione found herself quite afraid that her tongue would betray her, that her vocal cords would go numb and that she would scream "No!" when it came her turn to utter "I do." It was an unfounded fear, she had never known her subconscious to turn on her brain and it was unlikely to do so now. So she shrugged the fear off as a major case of cold feet and went about her business of getting ready to become Hermione Snape.

There weren't many wedding preparations that she had to take care of. Professor McGonagall took care of the simple decorations of the Great Hall, leaving Hermione only one task to complete: choosing a wedding gown. It was an easy choice for Hermione; she knew which it would be the second she laid eyes on it in Madame Malkin's. Simple and long, it formed a puddle on the floor when she stood still, but flowed behind her elegantly when she walked. There were no sleeves, only small straps that fit on her arm, about an inch below the shoulder. The neckline went straight across her chest, simple, yet beautiful on Hermione. She wasn't the most beautiful girl when only in her school uniform, but when dressed to the nines, she could be stunning. And with the simple dress, her hair left wild and curly, only pulled back on the sides slightly and no veil, Hermione Granger was a bride to beat any bride. No one but Professor McGonagall had seen her in the dress yet, but the old witch assured the young bride that no eye would be dry when they saw her in her wedding gown. Even Severus would appreciate the simple beauty that Hermione held. Hermione had her doubts, but knew that she could wear a rag and Severus Snape would still marry her. There was no way he couldn't, she laughed bitterly to herself. They were tied, legally, through the signed petition. The only way out was death and even Snape would choose marriage over death at this point in his life.

As the wedding day drew near, Hermione couldn't help but feel her feelings of dread turn to slight moments of excitement. Yes, it was Snape she was marrying, but she was a girl after all. It seemed only natural that she become excited and even curious as to what marriage entailed. There were the added benefits of only sharing a room with one other person, having a private sitting area and more than likely a private library. She was only guessing on this last part, having never been in Snape's private quarters, but she thought it would be a good guess in any case. There were other things that she was excited about, but she wasn't so sure about _that_ part of marriage. She had little, barely any, experience with the opposite sex. A couple of chaste kisses with Ron, quickly leading her to the conclusion that they were better off friends. That was as far as her knowledge of the interactions between males and females went. Naturally, her excitement peaked when she thought of discovering what all the other girls whispered about behind closed doors.

But as her curiosity rose, so did her fear. It was Snape after all. He had to have much more experience than she did. He was older, wiser—as he never let any of his classes forget—he must have been wiser in all aspects of knowledge. Again, she could only assume, but she had the suspicion that her assumptions were right. She would have to wait and see. Only another day to go and she would find out. She would find it all out.

**a/n****: I'm sorry for the long wait. I hope ****you've**** stuck with me and ****Look**** through it all. I'm in college now and loving every minute. I will try to update more often, as long as people still want more.**


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Even though I'd love to own the rights to these wonderful characters, that just isn't so, and I don't claim that it is.

He had never seen anything so beautiful, not that anyone would ever know that, especially not her. Never her. He had softened himself—almost too much so—simply by giving her his scroll of 'proposal', he had reached a low point in his life, his mind told him, by breaking and bending to a law he did not believe in. But that had been his life, hadn't it? Hadn't he spent time, from twenty on, doing that which he did not believe? This should be no harder than working as a spy. This should be easier than that. Much easier. But as he watched her march down the aisle, on her father's arm, he couldn't help but feel the sudden, desperate pain of fear. Fear gripped him, slipping through him, seeping into his pores and filling the pit of his stomach with fluttering he had not felt for ages, not since, well, not since Lilly. Perhaps that's why boyish fear grabbed him—fear of the unknown, fear of abandonment. He wasn't being abandoned, no—that had happened long ago. No, now he was experiencing the fear of abandoning her. For the first time, his only "love" wouldn't be the redhead he had grown up with.

As Hermione drew nearer, his thoughts returned to the present, away from the past and away from the woman that he never had and never would have. Now his eyes were on the hand that would soon be held in his, would soon bear the ring that he taken from his Gringotts vault only the day before. The ring—currently safely tucked away in the pocket of his robe—had been his mother's, the one thing that his father had given her out of love, the first and last present that she willingly received. It was the one sign that Severus Snape had that his parents had once been in love. The hand that would wear that ring, Hermione's left, was now laying gently on her father's arm, as Mr. Granger walked down the aisle beside her. Severus couldn't help but give an odd, inward, snort at the thought of the term 'father' and Mr. Granger. The man hadn't even wanted to attend the wedding, much less walk his daughter down the aisle. He didn't approve of the law—the one thing that Severus and he agreed upon. Hermione's father had only come because he didn't want his wife to travel to the world of witches and wizards, to the place where their daughter had ate nearly every meal for the last seven years, alone. No harm—no _normal_ harm had come to their daughter while she spent her years in those halls. Mrs. Granger didn't approve of the law either, but her baby was getting married and there was no way she would miss this sight.

On that note, Severus turned his head in the direction of her future mother-in-law. She was older than him, but not by much. Mrs. Granger was younger than her husband, by at least five years. It made the current situation all the more ironic, the simple fact that the Granger's were against what was similar to their own situation. Of course, there was more than five years between Severus and Hermione, he couldn't help but think that their own age difference would make them a bit more understanding. No such luck in the world of the unfair, Severus smirked to himself. For a second, he began to think of the future, to think of the possibility of what could happen. When—no, **if**, he corrected himself—he and Hermione had children, he hoped that he would be more understanding to their choices in life. What his students would think if they could hear his thoughts now. What Hermione would say!

He honestly didn't know what his soon-to-be wife would say; he didn't know her views on children, her views on the new minister of magic. Hell, he thought, he didn't even know her favorite color. They had more than their fair share of talking to do. But that would come later…later, after they had finished what they had to do that day. It seemed that wouldn't be much to the later he was thinking of, though. Hermione was at the front of the Great Hall now, standing in front of him. Her hazel eyes were looking up at him, trying to catch the gaze of his black ones. He turned, then, when he felt her stare. It still amazed him that such a simple thing as a stare could draw his attention away from whatever had previously kept his attention. He turned to the short, frizzy—for she was now simply frizzy haired, not bushy as she had been in her younger years—haired woman, and couldn't help but let out a small smile. The smallest smile anyone had ever seen, but a smile none-the-less. Perhaps the marriage of Hermione Granger and Severus Snape wouldn't be too bad after all.

a/n: I hope you've all enjoyed the so far. More will come, I promise, but I'm taking my time, thinking it out and making it the best I can. Thanks for sticking with me this long!


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter related. Do you think I'd be writing ****fanfiction**** if I did?**

Was it possible, she wondered, to paralyze yourself? Could it possibly happen that one could create a new magic, an unheard of magic that causes one to lose all ability to speak? Rationally—if she were thinking rationally—she knew that it was simply nerves making her this way. Nerves of what the rest of her life would hold. Forget the rest of her life, she reminded herself, more like nerves of what the night would hold. It was Friday afternoon, after classes, late afternoon. They had only the last bit of the ceremony—and her saying "I do"—to go. And maybe some sort of reception—if McGonagall had planned one—afterward. But after that, after the after of the wedding, it would be him and her, her and him. Alone, together. No students, no professors, no Daddy shooting glaring looks at his soon-to-be son-in-law. No Mother crying quietly, yet openly for all to see. No Dumbledore, eyes gleaming, as he waited for her to speak. No, there would only be Severus, his black eyes glinting in the candle light. He was waiting for her to speak, waiting for the answer that would finalize the deal that the proposal/agreement had committed them to. She opened her mouth to speak, she was poised to answer, ready to go through with it.

"I do," she whispered, near inaudible. Dumbledore smiled, having heard her answer. Snape on the other hand leaned forward, as did the small audience gathered behind their backs.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Granger, I do believe that our witnesses didn't hear you. Could you please repeat that?"

_"Damn __wizarding__ wedding,"_ she muttered under her breath, knowing full well that had this been a muggle wedding, a microphone might have been used, especially in the case that she _couldn't_ speak any louder than she had. She cleared her throat quietly and opened her mouth again.

"I said: I do." This time was louder, or at least loud enough that those near the front could hear. Severus leaned back, something—was that…could it be…maybe?—she couldn't be sure, but she thought she saw the small glint of a smile. Was he, could he, yes, he seemed like he might be pleased that she had finally said those two, small words. Before her hopes—the hopes that maybe he could be…accepting of this arrangement—could rise, she quickly dashed them herself. Of course, he'd smile a bit, this was saving him from a life without magic. She was saving him. But, of course, he was saving her too. They were even, a business deal. Bitterness hit Hermione like a ton of bricks. That was all her marriage was and ever would be. She would never get to feel loved by the one person who should love her above all others. It was a cruel fate she had just signed herself to, but one she had to live with none-the-less. Hermione let out a small sigh, and brought herself out of her thoughts. This wasn't the time or the place to begin contemplating what the life would be like that she would now have. There was plenty of time for that later. Her whole life, in fact.

"Severus, do you take Hermione Jean Granger as your wife?" Dumbledore asked the question of Severus this time and Hermione itched to smack the self-satisfied smirk off of his face when he was able to speak without any difficulty. Why should he have such an easy time of it? Why did she feel like the lamb fed to the wolf?

"I do, Headmaster," came his answer, his voice deep, bouncing off the walls and reaching even the caretaker, who stood in the back of the room, having snuck in so he could have the ability to say he witnessed the most mix-matched wedding that the Ministry's law brought about.

Argus Filch stood against the far back wall, his cat, Mrs. Norris, slinking around his ankles, a look of complete disinterest on his face. It meant nothing to him that this law had been passed. He was neither wizard nor muggle and wouldn't be forced into marriage. That didn't stop him, however, from using his post at the wazarding school for his own benefit of bragging rights. He could now say that he had witnessed the marriage of Severus Snape, something no one thought they'd ever be able to do.

At the front of the Great Hall, Albus Dumbledore was smiling broadly, the glint in his eye unmistakable. The old headmaster had known long before any else that these two would say "I do." It wasn't necessarily a sign or a look that gave him such confidence. No, Albus simply knew the love of knowledge and the wizarding world they both held. That was enough to convince them each to consent to the most unlikely of marriages.

"Well, then. I believe that makes this torture," here the headmaster added a wink, knowing how little both parties had wanted to partake in such a ceremony, "official and officially over. Severus, you may kiss your bride."

Here it was, this was it. The one moment that Hermione had both anticipated and dreaded for the past week. Should she move forward? Should she let him come to her? She had kissed Ron before, yes, but that had been awkward, clumsy, and adolescent. Not how she wanted her fist kiss as a wife to be. Maybe he would…

Yes, that's what she she'd been hoping. Severus moved forward, not waiting for her to make any decisions. In one quick movement, his lips were on hers and he was gentle, surprisingly. It wasn't a long kiss, nor a particularly passionate one, but it was certainly more than just a peck. She gasped at his tenderness—and the feel of his tongue tracing her lower lip—and was instantly grateful that no one could hear her.

It went unnoticed by Hermione, that as they broke away, Severus chuckled quietly. He had heard her gasp.

a/n: I'm horribly sorry that this has taken so long to get updated. I hit a horribly streak of writer's block and then a period where, had I written, Hermione might have killed Severus—and everyone else—with her dinner knife. It wasn't a good time to write at all. Now, as to the length, I know its short, but I've gotten and idea about the next chapter and that idea has to go to the next chapter, so I had to get this one out of the way.

This is dedicated to my wonderful roommate who pestered me nearly every day to update.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Again, I own nothing. ****Nada.**** Zip. ****Zelch****None.**

**Ah! There were those eyes. Glinting, j****ust as she had imagined not six**** hours before. They shone, really, almost sparkled, in the candle light.**** They were on the other side of the room, but she could**** see them clearly, as though he**** were sitting right next to her. His head was bent slightly, looking at the parchment he had in his hands, but it wasn't bent enough for his eyes to not catch the light and shine out. They were so black she swore that if he ever came close enough to her she would be able to see herself in them. If he ever came near her, that is. **

**Their wedding had taken place in the early afternoon, one o'clock to be precise, and it was now early night. The sun had set, the students were all in their common rooms, the teachers and prefects were on patrol, and Severus and Hermione had been in his quarters the entire time after their short reception. And he had barely spoken ten words to her.**

**"These," he had said, when they first arrived in his private areas, as he pointed to the lower half of a dresser, "are your drawers. Kindly refrain from invading mine. This," he pointed again, this time to an armoire, "is yours. The other is mine." He didn't have to repeat the warning that she should stay out.**

**'At least I'll have my own hanging area.' Hermione had mused to herself as she glanced around the room. It was surprisingly bright for such ****a dark man. The bedding was the expected deep ****Slytherin**** green, while the bench at the foot of the bed had a crisp silver covering. While the actual furnishings were dark colors and dark woods, the room itself appeared to have magical access to limitless sun. It was****n't**** dark and impossible to see in ****the room, as Hermione had suspected it would be. ****Quite the opposite, in fact.**** As she took in her new surroundings, she began to wonder if it would ever be dark enough to sleep. ****'Or other things.'**** She added, a small smirk emerging on her face. Really! What had gotten into her? These thoughts were not thoughts she had been having a week ago about anyone and here she was, having them about Severus Snape. Maybe the fact that he now held the title of 'husband' did it to her.**

**Unbeknownst to Hermione, Severus had been trying t****o get her attention for a few**** of minutes. She was lost in her own thoughts and mental scolding's and didn't**** hear**** him the first few times he had called her name. Had she been listening, she would have heard him use her given name for the first time. **

**'Hermione' he had called****, trying to gain her attention, but she was still caught up in herself. He had to resort to what he knew would get her attention. "Ms. Granger!" ****came**** the near shout, in his most horrible professor voice.**

**"I really think you can call me 'Hermione', seeing as we are **_**married**_**," she snapped, nearly jumping when she heard his voice again.**

**"I did!" He insisted, crossing his arms and moving toward the door that connected the bedroom to the living area.**

**"Of course you did. That's why you said, 'Ms. Granger" just seconds ago." She retorted****, not believing him for an instance.**

**"I'm grading papers," he said in a huff, marching past her in a billow of black cloak, "you can do whatever you like."**

**And that was how they had come to be sitting in the living area of Severus ****Snape's**** private quarters, Severus with his head bent in concentration and Hermione stealing furtive glances at her ****hour's**** old husband over the top of her book.**** Frustration began to fill her. It was her wedding night, for Merlin's sake, and not only did ****she**** not get a honeymoon, she didn't get the slightest attention from her husband. And to make matters worse, after every thought, every mental urging for him to look up and see her looking, she would scold herself, tell herself that it was Severus Snape she was trying to lure with her eyes. Professor Snape!**

**The use of the word 'professor' in her mind would lead to further reprimands. She was married to him now. If she insisted on being called Hermione, she couldn't have double standards and use that title anymore outside of the classroom. 'Severus! It's Severus, now, Hermione. Get your act together!' She would mutter in her head, trying to become used to using the name without ever actually speaking it. **

**Another half hour passed in this way and though Hermione made sure to keep her pages turning, she hadn't actually read more than five lines of her novel. It was impossible to concentrate on a story when you were having mental battles with yourself all the while trying to coax your husband out of his concentrated state.**** With a 'humph', Hermione closed her book and stood, giving once last glance to Severus.**

**"I'm going to bed," she announced more to the fireplace than to the man sitting next to it, "Is there a particular side of the bed you sleep on?" Her voice was laced with more than a bit of the frustration she felt.**

**"What? ****Side of the bed?**** No, no, sleep wherever you like," he replied, still distracted, though after a second's thought, he did look up, "Why?"**

**"Oh, I don't know. You have your side and my side, your area and my area for everything else. I assumed you'd have a particular side of the bed you favored. I wouldn't want to **_**intrude**_**."**

**"It doesn't matter. I'll be in ****in**** a bit." Was his only response, the bitterness in her voice lost on ****him.**

**Wordlessly, Hermione made her way around the furniture and into the bedroom, opening her armoire once she had entered. Here she glanced at the nightgown that McGonagall had bought when the wedding dress had been purchased. ****"My wedding gift to you, Hermione.**** Every woman should have a nice nightgown for her wedding night." The older ****witch**** had said when she presented the article to Hermione. It was beautiful, made of the same crisp, white satin that her dress had been made of, but at the moment, Hermione couldn't bring herself to put it on. 'Why waste something so nice on a man who wouldn't notice it?' She asked herself, shutting the doors to the armoire, and walking to her bottom three drawers in the dresser. Opening the lowest one, she pulled out old faithful: a pair of linen pajama pants and a simple, beige t-shirt****. She might as well be comfortable.**

**Taking care of all her hygienic needs in the bathroom, Hermione returned to the bedroom and crawled under the covers on the side farthest from the door. She curled up on her side, facing the center of the bed, and shut her eyes, hoping that sleep would come quickly and that she wouldn't ****be awake when he came to bed. She didn't know if she could be awake, that close to him, and not tell him a piece of her mind.**

**Sleep didn't come easy that night, however, and Hermione was still awake an hour later when Severus finally decided that he was ready for bed. Forgetting, momentarily, that there was someone else in the room, he entered and immediately charmed a few candles into being lit.**

**"There's someone sleeping here." Hermione called from the bed, her position now switched from on her side to her back, one arm thrown over her eyes in an attempt to block the candles' light.**

**"You appear to be awake to me," Severus replied, his voice seeming to deepen with want for sleep.**

**"Only because ****your**** light work me****. Would you put them out now?"**

**"Once I'm ready for bed, I will." He was unbending, refusing to even compromise. Severus Snape was a stubborn one, and a bit thick, too, when it came to dealing with his new wife. It seemed that no matter how much anger Hermione put into her tone of voice, it completely went over his head.**

**"Now."**** Was all she said, before reaching over to the bedside table and picking up her ****wand.**** She muttered a spell quickly, and all the lights went out except one, on the side of the room farthest from her.**

**This was something Severus didn't find funny in the least. Grabbing his own wand, he lit the candles again, turning to glare at the young woman in his bed. Why was she testing him? "Leave them on." He ordered, turning back to the business of gathering his sleeping garments.**

**"Crab."**** She muttered, more to herself than anyone else, turning to flop over, back on her side, not bothering with the lights again.**

**Severus had heard her comment. Of course he heard it. She hadn't been nearly as quiet as she thought she had been and his hearing was sharp, courtesy of years in the classroom, listening for any none solicited talking. He, too, used the bathroom to ready himself for bed, and a smirk appeared on his face after he heard her flop back down on the bed. He hadn't meant to ignore his new bride quite as much as he had. He had only intended to take a bit of time to get his nerves in check. Yes, Severus Snape had been nervous for his wedding night. He was human, after all. Now it seemed that he had entirely riled her up. He'd be lucky if he got a good-night when he got into bed, much less anything else he had fully planned on doing that night. 'Perhaps it's for the best,' he thought to ****himself****, '****After all, she's much more entertaining when she's mad.' He chuckled to himself before heading into the bedroom and turning out the lights.**

**A/N: I hope you all like this chapter. It was, at times, one of the hardest to write, and at other times, it flowed quite easily. Thanks to my awesome reviewers from the last chapter!**


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Again, I own nothing. If I could, I would, but this is no place to play 'coulda, shoulda, woulda'.

"So, how was it?"

"How was what?"

"Come on, 'Mione. You know very well what. Spill."

"Don't call me 'Mione. And it wasn't."

"What do you mean, wasn't? He wasn't good? Or you didn't?"

"Why are you so concerned about the sex life of your professor, Ginny? Why are you so concerned with _my_ sex life for that matter?"

"Because you're my friend. Can't one friend be interested in another friend's life? I want you to be happy, after all. Now, was he good? Or did you do nothing at all?"

The conversation had started out innocently enough. 'Beautiful ceremony.' 'You looked wonderful yesterday.' And then, 'How was it?' Now Ginny wouldn't let the subject go. Hermione didn't want to answer. Really, who wanted to say to a noisy girl that the night that should have provided a myriad of juicy details (if Hermione had been inclined to share—which she was not) was actually a night in which the only detail that was even remotely interesting was the fact that Severus didn't snore, contrary to popular rumor. When Severus had finally decided that he should grace the bed with his presence, Hermione was on her side, her back to the dark haired man, her eyes clenched closed. Even if sex had been on his mind, he wasn't getting it. Not that night. The candle catastrophe had been enough to ensure that.

"We didn't."

"You didn't?"

"Should I owl your mother and tell her to have your hearing checked? We didn't. He was being a right foul git and we didn't."

"What did he do? Did he try to force you? I'll tell Harry. Dumbledore will get involved. He can't do that to you!"

Hermione snickered at the automatic use of that. Ginny had no idea what was specifically being talked about and here she was, already jumping to the conclusion that Severus had tried to rape her. And the fact that the younger girl thought that getting Harry involved would help the matter. He might have defeated Voldemort, but even Voldemort couldn't defeat Severus Snape.

"He didn't try to rape me, Ginny. Hold your thestrils, would you? I said he was being a git. That doesn't automatically mean he tried to force me to do anything. He started grading papers and I guess he lost track of time. It got late and then I went to bed."

"Nothing happened?"

"No."

"You're horribly disappointing, Hermione. I hope you know that."

"You'll have to get your kicks vicariously through someone else for now, Gin."

"Yeah, yeah. And you'll have to do the same if you want any kicks."

"Oh, get out of here, you."

The redhead rose from the library table, where she had accosted her friend in whispered questions, and twirled away toward the door. _Twirled, indeed_, Hermione mused, watching the long red hair float out around Ginny. The star female Quidditch player never simply walked. She floated, glided, danced and sprang. Never walked.

The library was offering no distraction from her troubled thoughts. Normally Hermione could go to the library and lose herself in the world of books and of studying. Today her brain was elsewhere, and try as she might she couldn't make herself think of anything other than Severus. Why had he been so enthralled with students' papers when he had her there at his disposal? Not to make herself sound like a piece of trash. But she would have. It was her duty after all. They had to have children, one at least. The law required it and there was no getting around the law.

Maybe he didn't want it to seem like it was force. Maybe he thought that obligation wasn't a good enough reason to sleep with your spouse. Maybe…there were too many maybes in her head. Closing the heavy tome she had been reading, Hermione stood and left for the dungeons. If she was going to obey the law, then she'd have to take it into her own hands to do so. She couldn't depend on him to make sure they weren't exiled for law breaking.

It took a few minutes—even after nearly seven years of inhabiting the castle, the stairways and passageways still confused her at times, often making it difficult to find the way from point A to point B—Hermione had made her way to Severus' classroom. He wasn't in class, she knew that much, but one would be starting one in half an hour's time. He'd be preparing. She had been given reprieve from lessons for the last few days of the week, giving her time to "adjust to married life" as Dumbledore put it.

She didn't bother to knock as she pushed open the blackened oak doors and slipped through a crack. Whatever he was working on, his interest was solely on the task at hand. His head didn't raise and his attention remained focused until she cleared her throat loudly.

"What do you want, Hermione? I've got class in a few minutes." His tone wasn't exactly cold, but warmth wouldn't have been equated either.

"I know you've got class soon. I just wanted to find out when you'd be done for the day. I'd like to have dinner in our rooms tonight."

"You can't eat in our rooms anytime you'd like. I don't see what that has to do with what time I get finished." For one of the smarter men she had met in her relatively short lifetime, Severus Snape could be rather thick headed at times. Had she not made her intentions that _they _eat together clear?

"It has to do with it in the fact that I would like for _us_ to eat in our rooms together. What time can I expect you?"

"I always eat in the great hall after classes. What would the students—not to mention the other staff—think when I'm not there?"

"They'll think you're spending time with your wife, as you should. What time, Severus?"

"I should be through by five, but I really…"

"I'll see you then." She took a page out of Ginny's book and turned gracefully on her heel and glided out of the room, using the side exit she knew lead to their living area.

"Insufferable woman can't leave well enough alone." Severus muttered after her, unable to return his attention fully to the papers in front of him.

--

Hermione only had roughly an hour and a half to get together something that would ensure the night went as she wanted it to. How she really wanted the night to go was still a bit of a mystery, even to her, but the image of their bed floated in and out of her thoughts ever once in a while. As she entered their rooms, she called for Dobby.

"Yes, Missus, whats can Dobby do for the Missus Snape today?" the house elf asked in his broken English.

"I'm still Hermione, Dobby, you don't have to call me Mrs. Snape." She informed the bright eyed creature, forgetting momentarily that even before she had been married, she had been Miss to him.

"Ah, yes, Missus. Yous is right. Are yous and Professor wanting to eat in here?"

"Actually, we are, Dobby. Could you bring down a couple of trays?"

"Of course, Missus. Dobby will, Missus." And with that he was gone and Hermione was left to wonder what to do to get ready for an evening at home with her husband.

"These things really should not be this difficult. A night at home with my husband. My husband who's Severus Snape. My husband who doesn't seem to want anything to do with me. Getting him into bed should be simple enough" The sarcasm in her voice as she spoke the last few words, not to mention the words themselves, surprised her. At least her goal of the evening wasn't subconscious any longer.

Hermione had little to go on for getting the evening ready. Had she been trying to seduce any other man, things would have been simpler. She would have put on muggle clothing, lit a couple of candles, had the food waiting, and then hinted around, a kiss here, a giggle there, and it would be all done with. But this man was Severus Snape, and she had little idea what he would want. The muggle clothing couldn't have been a bad place to go off of, she mused, walking into the bedroom and beginning to go through her drawers.

She had a pair of dark denim jeans that had gotten more than a fair few comments from Ron and even Neville. If Neville noticed something about her wardrobe that was flattering, even Severus would have to like it. They were lower rising than most of her pants and a bit tighter than she typically preferred her clothes, but not so tight that she had trouble sitting or moving. She didn't have much by way of tops that weren't school issue or sweaters. She did have the camisoles that she typically wore under the sweaters and perhaps that could serve as a good enough option. At the very least, it was her most revealing one. And that was what she wanted, after all, wasn't it? Green was the obvious choice, knowing that Severus was rather partial to the hue. Her most Slytherin green camisole it was then. Shoes, she thought, weren't necessary and she also thought that she had read—more than likely in one of Ginny's magazines—that bare feet symbolized something or other that was definitely in line with her plans for the night. Her hair she left down, though she did manage to contain a small amount of the frizziness that would have otherwise made her hair stand out a meter side to side.

With all of that done, Hermione still had nearly forty-five minutes left to wait for Severus to finish teaching. Even when she thought about her appearance, it only took her thirty minutes to get ready. She had never inherited the 'slow preparation gene' that most women seemed to have. Why waste time considering and trying on outfits when one knows exactly what one will wear? The entire idea had always baffled Hermione.

Dobby had already delivered the trays of food. That's going to be cold, she thought, as she approached the table the stainless steel sat on. Reaching out to remove one lid and see what was for dinner, Hermione recoiled sharply, her fingertips already burning slightly just from the proximity to the metal. Maybe she was wrong. The food wouldn't get cold for hours. Now, what to do with herself?

Hermione's obvious choice to pass the time was reading. Books were nearly always the first thing that jumped to her mind when needing something to entertain herself with. Tonight was no different. She found the book she had begun the night before and settled down on the couch, her back to the arm rest, feet on the seat, her knees bent into a good position to rest the book on. Not long after cracking the spine, she was lost in the worlds of muggle folktales, unaware of what was going on around her.

--

Severus had delayed ending class as long as he could. There was no need to dread going to his quarters that night. Actually, he thought, there is one and it goes by the name of Hermione. He didn't dread spending time with the girl who had become his wife, though Merlin knew she could be a handful. He had had several interesting, not to mention entertaining conversations with her in the past and more could only be ensured for the future. He dreaded the one thing that most new husbands looked forward to more than anything else after getting married. Despite popular belief—and rumor—Severus Snape did have a heart and a conscience and the two put together was giving him a hard time about consummating the marriage.

Though the law insisted she was at least 18 due to her parent's absentmindedness, Hermione was still his young, seventeen year old student. Smart and knowledgeable beyond his wildest dreams for a student, but still naïve about too many things. His mind wouldn't let him stop questioning any part of the situation.

Finally, there came a point when he couldn't delay leaving the classroom any longer. His entire desk was organized, well beyond the point of neatness that it typically was at the end of most days. All papers had been graded and he had started to go over that day's batch of exams. It was nearing five thirty and if he was much later he could surely anticipate a reprimand from his bride—something he was already coming to understand about her was her temper. But he was also coming to understand something about himself, or at least the he in this situation, and that was the fact that he enjoyed her temper immensely. She was never more beautiful than when fired up and utterly pissed off at him. Surely that was a sign of masochism.

With a sigh of trepidation, Severus stood from his desk and strode the small distance from his seat to the side door. He could see Hermione on the couch as he entered, but she showed no sign of hearing him open the door. As he moved closer, though, taking in the smell of the dinner that waited, she spoke quietly.

"You said you would be done at five." Her quite tone, the menacing nature underneath, caught him off guard.

"Actually, I said I _should _be through by five. Should and will are two very different things. I'm thirty minutes late. It's not like I snuck off to the Great Hall for dinner and stayed for hours."

"You said five. For a man who expects his students to be on the dot arriving everywhere, if not a bit early, I would have expected you to be early for everything, too. It seems I've married a hypocrite."

"I am most certainly not a hypocrite, Miss Granger. You'll be wise to keep your accusations to yourself. I'm going to change."

Hermione's eyes hadn't moved off of the page of text she had been reading when Severus entered, but the flashed upward and to the darkly clad figure quickly at the name he gave her. "My name is Hermione. At the very least you could call me Mrs. Snape if you feel the need to use my last name. It is mine now, after all."

"So it is, Mrs. Snape. I'll be back shortly."

His haughty tone infuriated her like no other and she let out an exasperated sigh as he left the room. It would be a much longer night than she had thought.

A/N: Sorry it's taken so long to get an update up. I started this near the time I posted Chapter nine, but it's taken me this long to finish it. It shouldn't be that long before there's a Chapter eleven, however, because I really could have kept this chapter going for much longer than I did. Think of this a 'part I'.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I'm looking for a creative way to deny that I own the Harry Potter world. Any suggestions?**

**A/n: Here it is, the long awaited Chapter 11. I know, I know. It's later than what I expected. I seem to get awful cases of writer's block the second I post a chapter. Forgive me?**

--

"Mrs. Snape, the least you could do is join me. You were, after all, the one who insisted we eat in tonight."

"And the least you could do, _Severus_, is call me by my first name. It wouldn't kill you."

Wouldn't kill him, Severus repeated in his mind, while staring down at the matching plates of food that sat in front of him. Ah, but it might. Familiarity begets attachment, attachment begets weakness, and weakness begets death. It really wasn't all that hard a line of thinking to follow, he thought with an almost nauseous look on his face. Familiarity equals death, at least in the mind of the brooding potions master.

Severus had stalked out of the room after their name argument, marching angrily into the bedroom and changing out of his school robes. As much as he liked looking the part of the domineering professor while he was in the classroom and in the school halls, in his own quarters, he preferred a much more relaxed look. Black slacks and a comfortable sweater—not necessarily in the darkest of hues—were his preferred style of dress. He returned to the living area in an equally angry march, heading straight for the silver covered plates of food. He removed the covers quickly when he felt the heat still rising off the metal and sat down in front of one, looking over at the couch where Hermione still sat, her interest devoted to the book in her hands. He had sat there for five minutes before speaking and when their short exchange was over, it appeared that he'd either be sitting there for much longer than five minutes or he'd be eating by himself.

"I really expected much more mature behavior from you, Mrs. Snape. You were never one to sink to such childish games of ignoring someone. I've spent the last seven years watching you interact with the people around you and not once did I see you ignore someone you were angry with. You always had it out, then and there and got it over with. I'm quite surprised."

Hermione glanced up from the book quickly, shooting daggers in her husband's direction. Before she had a chance to respond he spoke again.

"Ah! She looks up. And here I thought it was impossible. Mrs. Snape, I know that you're mad at me, but it will do you no good not to eat. How will look if you continue this self-imposed fast and emerge from these quarters looking starved?"

Closing the book, Hermione swung her feet off of the couch and stood. She didn't want to eat now, simply because he insisted that she did, but her stomach had taken to growling half an hour before and she really couldn't put up with the hunger pains any longer. As she sat down at the table, she picked up her fork, refusing to look up at Severus again.

Severus was by no means entirely thrilled with the progress that had been made, but she was eating and that was better than nothing at all he supposed. Where the sudden need for her to maintain healthy eating habits came from was beyond him, but he found himself relieved enough that she wasn't starving on his account that he didn't try to continue their argument.

--

Severus waited until he was sure Hermione was finished eating before he spoke again. The normally well versed professor was at a loss for words when it came to trying to patch things over with his new bride. _Death be damned, _he muttered under his breath, sure the only way to get her to even look at him was saying the one word he had only moments before equated with death.

"Hermione," he began, managing a small smile when she looked up at him at the sound of her name, "I'm sorry."

There. That had to do it. He wasn't expecting those to be the words to come out of his mouth, and Hermione had clearly been expecting anything else. Her mouth opened just a bit, while her eyes went wide in momentary shock. Severus Snape and "I'm sorry" went together about as well as oil and water.

"You're sorry for what?" She asked, crumpling the napkin that had been in her lap and tossing it lightly onto the table. Her stunned silence only last for a second. He wasn't going to get off that easy.

"I'm sorry that I was later than I said I was going to be and I'm sorry that I keep calling you Miss Granger." His voice took on the tone of a little boy forced to apologize when he only barely thought he ought to have to apologize.

"You could try sounding like you mean it." She told him, keeping her voice level. There really was no need to shout or scream. She had learnt long ago that a quite tone could go further than an obviously angry one.

Severus sighed in exasperation, not sure what more he could do to prove that he was sorry. Because, as much as he didn't want to admit it, he really was sorry. He had consciously been late to dinner and try as he might it was still difficult to refer to his wife as anything other than Miss Granger, but he was very sorry that both happened.

"Mi—Hermione, I _am _sorry. And if you don't believe me, then you're going to go through our marriage always believing that I enjoyed upsetting you on only our second night being married. I may have the reputation of an evil, heartless bastard, but despite the rumors, I still have my conscious intact."

"Fine. Are you finished now? I'd like to finish the chapter I was reading before I go to sleep." Her tone was still level, still cold. Not at all the easy going voice she used normally. The tone infuriated him more than anything.

"No, I'm not finished now. Damn it woman, are you always this insufferable?" He asked, standing from his seat at the table, his chair sent teetering on the back legs, threatening to fall from the speed at which he had risen. "I apologized. Me! I've never apologized more than twice in my life and you've already got me apologizing on the second night we're married. I try to make this work, try to be the bigger person, smooth things over, not cause waves. And what do I get? A wife who's only interest before sleep is reading! I don't care what that damned law said. You really were too young for marriage." With his final words, Severus walked quickly to the bedroom, knowing if he stayed in the room with her for any longer he'd yell again. Probably worse the second time around.

It took Hermione only a moment to get over what felt like a verbal slap in the face. First she was immature in ignoring him, now she was too young to have gotten married. Understanding settled in Hermione's mind. She understood quite well that Severus was still hung up on her age. Had she been a decade older, he would have been all over her, making this marriage as legal as it could have been. Or in the very least he would have been on time to dinner, might have noticed that she wasn't wearing her school uniform, he might have acted a bit more like the husband he was. She had the misfortune of marrying a man who couldn't get past something as small as a number. Most people would have suspected that she would be the one to agonize over the one glaring difference between them. And while she had, for the first day or two, worried, she quickly realized there were far worse things that could have made she and her husband different. Age simply wasn't that important.

As realization dawned on her, Hermione stood and followed the dark-haired man into the bedroom. She found Severus laying on his back, stretched out across the queen-sized bed, an arm thrown above his head, one hand resting on his stomach. He was staring at the ceiling and didn't appear to notice that she had entered the room. Hermione's natural instincts were to point out his problem and insist he get over it, to try to force him to see things her way. It was somewhat of a shame that her "learning to live with Severus" instincts hadn't kicked in yet.

"You really need to get over yourself, you know that?" She asked as she moved toward the bed. "Do you really think you're the only one that worries about our age difference? It's not even the fact that there is an age difference; it's the fact that there is an experience difference. I realize fully that you are older than me, nearly twenty years older. Do you not think that I think about how different we are simply because you've lived longer? But you don't hear me calling you senile and too old to marry, do you? Calling me immature and stating the obvious fact that I'm _young_ isn't going to do either one of us any good. Like it or not you're stuck with me."

With each word, Hermione's anger built. She began pacing somewhere in the middle, jabbing her index finger at him every time her pacing turning her around in his direction. She was letting her temper get the best of her. Severus, on the other hand, lay quietly on the bed, the only indication that he even heard her words was the small smirk playing on his lips. She really was the smartest witch of her age. No, not just the smartest witch. She was smart, period. Who else but someone with Hermione's large intellect could pinpoint exactly what had been bothering him so quickly?

"Are you just going to lay there all night? You call me immature for ignoring you, and now _you're _ignoring me? That's very mature. The most mature behavior I've seen in a whi—" Hermione's sarcastic tongue was cut off mid-word. Severus had moved quickly from the bed, coming up behind the pacing form of his wife. Grabbing her upper arms, he spun her around quickly. He bent down and covered her mouth with his own, all the while not breaking the grip he had on her arms.

Hermione didn't realize it yet, but she didn't have to go to the trouble of arranging a nice dinner in their quarters or dressing in her most appealing clothes to attract the attention that a wife expects from her husband. All Hermione had to do was become angry. The anger put a glint in her eye that Severus could not bring himself to ignore. And he had tried. The past two days had given him ample opportunity to witness the fiery temper his wife possessed and he had managed not to react in a carnal way. There was only so much attraction a man could ignore.

Hermione had stiffened at the feeling of his hands on her arms and was unreceptive when she first felt his lips on hers. But they were soft lips, a gentleness lying casually underneath the eagerness. Soon she found herself returning the pressure, her arms snaking their way up and around his neck. His grip loosened on her upper arms, his own arms winding themselves around her body, bringing her closer. She opened her lips when she felt his tongue tracing the line of her lower lip, allowing him more access than she had the first time they kissed. That kiss had been for show, while this one was private and far more passionate.

Not breaking the kiss, Severus lead them the few short steps over to the bed, pushing Hermione down underneath him. After a moment or two more of this same general act, Hermione pushed Severus away, wanting to catch the breath she seemed to have lost.

"I'm still mad at you." She said simply, though the way her arms were still wrapped around his neck, her fingers tangled casually in his hair, told a different story.

"That's fine." Was his short response, before bringing his lips to her neck, causing a small moan to escape her lips. As the sound hit Severus' ears he couldn't help but think that as much as he found her anger attractive, her moans were much more so. He'd do his best to hear a few more like that before the night was over.

--

**A/n, part II: I won't promise an update soon. It is summer and I expect I'll have a lot more time on my hands, but its becoming glaringly obvious that I never update any sooner than half a month later. Now, as far as this chapter goes, I'm not 100 satisfied. I like the beginning and the end, but a lot of the middle doesn't feel quite right. I'm trying to my hardest to keep them IC, but I'm afraid a bit of OOC might have slipped in with Severus.**

**Mother of Tears: I'm sorry I tortured you for so long. I know its not exactly in this chapter, per se, but I hope this bit of leading up to the consummation was enough to put you out of your misery. **


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: Yadda, yadda, yadda, blah, blah, blah. Don't own it, 'kay?

Safe. Hermione knew the definitions—unlikely to cause harm, in a position that offers protection. And yes, she really could spout them off word for word. A couple of months of living with Severus had proven to her once and for all that she really was a know-it-all. He never failed to point that fact out less than twice a day, an odd look of bemusement on his face. She knew the definition of safe and yet she had never quite felt that way. Before the days when she knew magic existed she was nothing but a child, too smart for her own good and far too aware of the dangers of the world. After she started Hogwarts there were new dangers afoot. Months after the final war and even more months after her required wedding, Hermione understood safe. The stone walls of Hogwarts, though standing the test of time, weren't what gave her a feeling of security, but rather the arms that inevitably found their way around her shoulders after she had fallen asleep. It wasn't the knowledge of the elders who lived within those castle walls, but the knowledge that one of the bravest men in history had a personal stake in her life. It wasn't the fact that Voldemort was gone for good that made her know 'safe', but the fondness the man who helped defeat him had for her.

They still had their ups and downs—more downs than most couples, but more ups than she had ever imagined for their union. Not a day went by that he wouldn't slip up and call her 'Miss Granger', eliciting a 'humph' from her and the silent treatment until he apologized. There were days when she couldn't tell if he referred to her by her maiden name out of true forgetfulness or simply because he liked to see her mad once in a while. The latter seemed like a much more viable option for a man who could tell you at any given time how much of each ingredient was in his personal possession for potions. Every time he apologized for his mistake was another down for them. He became moody and irritable at having to admit he was wrong (whether his wrong was intentional or not) and 'I'm sorry' still didn't come easily to his thin lips. All things considered, however, they had far more ups in their relationship. Well suited in intellect, conversation rarely ran dry and only at times when both were far too engrossed in reading or work to bother with speaking. Then they coexisted well for two such explosive tempers. And of course other more nocturnal habits didn't hurt them at all.

And all the while that the two had more or less become one, their separate lives continued, albeit they didn't thrive as they once had. Hermione still had Harry and Ron and Ginny, too. But she didn't see much of them since Severus had become very much a part of her life. Inevitably she'd be speaking and mention his name, stalling the conversation. Two separate lives really weren't as possible as it seemed when those closest to you wanted nothing to do with a big part of your life. When friends disappointed, schoolwork and studying filled the gaps. Her seventh year was progressing as it should have, the only small hic-up being the shift in her potions master. Severus wasn't allowed to teach her, so Dumbledore stepped in, teaching his first class in over fifty years.

Severus had work that filled his days and much of his evenings. It only took a few days of the insolent brats whispering behind his back for him to end all gossip. A simple threat of minus fifty house points and detention for two months at the slightest mention of either he or Hermione in reference to anything nonschool related. Rumors died, gossip curdled, and Severus Snape was back to his usual domineering self. Beyond all reasonable logic, life was actually going well in the Snape house.

Was being the operative word.

Several more months passed by and Hermione and Severus fell into a rhythm and routine that was rarely broken. Classes for each during the day, dinner in the Great Hall on Monday, Wednesdays, and Fridays, in their rooms all other nights. The evenings were spent on homework or grading papers. And when one got tired, the other followed them to bed soon after. It was a regular, peaceful, boring, mundane life they led. They rarely fought about more than a blouse being in a wrong drawer (Severus' pet peeve) or the bathroom not being left as neat and tidy as it was found (Hermione's). And that's where Hermione was one afternoon, the day that was became wasn't and the sentence transformed into "very logically, life wasn't going well in the Snape house".

The shock was still fresh when Severus returned from his last class of the week, as much of a skip in his step as Severus was able to manage. A barely noticeable exuberance in his walk would be more like it. It was noon on Friday, there were no more classes until Monday and the devilish side of him could think of quite a few ways to spend the weekend and not have to leave the rooms. Not expecting Hermione until three at the earliest (her surname may have changed to Snape, but she was still Hermione Granger underneath it all, book worm, know-it-all, and a devout visitor of the library every afternoon as soon as classes finished), Severus entered his rooms with a carefree air that few had ever seen, and Hermione had only witnessed once. Not so far as actually smiling, he undid the wards on the door and announced his entrance to the empty room with a soft, under the breath, whistling.

He continued his whistling into the bedroom, where he hung up his cloak, and even got so far as sitting on the bed before he noticed another being in the room. It was that phenomenon, where a person gets so used not seeing something at a certain time, that when they do see that something at that time they tend to gloss right over it in order to only see what they're used to , that took effect on Severus. He was fully seated on the edge of the bed, one foot propped on the opposite knee, shoe in hand, preparing to pull it off, before he noticed the figure of his wife curled up in the middle of the bed. Her eyes were closed, her breathing was even, and she looked for all intents and purposes to be sleeping soundly. It was odd enough to see her on a Friday afternoon that early, and even odder for her to be napping. Hermione Snape simply did not nap. She was a strong believer in going to bed consistently at night and waking up at the same time each morning. Naps, she insisted, only served to mess up the system.

Severus continued to remove his shoes and finished the process of changing into his weekend clothes (far more casual than his menacing dark robes). He was neither louder nor quieter than he would have usually been had Hermione not been in the room, though he did stop whistling, aware that the noise might wake her. His unintentional quite wasn't enough, however. He returned from the bathroom to find her on her back, eyes wide.

"You're home early," he said as he walked into the room, drying his hands on a towel, "I wasn't expecting…" At this word, Hermione curled back up the way she had been, he knees drawn up to her chest.

"Are you alright?"

"_We're_ expecting."

A/n: Don't shoot the author!! Please? I know its been forever and a day since my last update and there's no good reason, but maybe this'll make up for it? Maybe…


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: So, yeah. I pretty much only own the not yet born child, and I'm not even claiming that, 'cause if someone from the J.K. Rowling/Warner Brothers camp wanted to say it was theirs, they could have it. I'm not looking for trouble.

"_We're expecting."_

Hermione's words hung in the air like a fog. Severus briefly entertained the idea that she couldn't possibly mean what he thought she meant. Perhaps they were _expecting_ company—her parents, maybe. Or dinner. They could, very simply, be expecting dinner. They could even be expecting the Owl post. He knew, though, that all of these were absurd. No one put as much emphasis on those two small words as Hermione had without them meaning far more than simply expecting guests. They were expecting a far more permanent addition to their household than an overnight guest.

"A _baby_?"

In all the years Hermione had known her husband, even before he was her husband, she had never heard him so dumbfounded. Nor had she ever seen such a look of shock cross his face. But there it was. He wasn't emotionless, as she had been preparing herself for, but he certainly wasn't shouting for joy—as a small part of her brain had secretly hoped he would. It looked as though he was searching his brain for appropriate words to form appropriate sentences.

"Yes, a baby. Our baby."

Hermione hadn't moved an inch from her curled up position on the bed, Severus noticed. He had moved, though he wasn't sure when, to sit on the edge of the bed, near her drawn knees. Had he been any other man he would have taken her hand, held her, kissed her in his excitement—that would require excitement, though, wouldn't it? And he wasn't sure excitement actually described his mood accurately. Any other man would have realized that she was curled up like that, with that worried look on her face because she was waiting for his reaction. Any man would have comforted her immediately, assured her he wasn't mad.

Severus was mad, though. Mad at himself, mostly, and maybe mad at her, too. Just a little. Mad at himself because he induced such fear in his nearly fearless wife. Mad at her because she let herself fear his reaction. Did she really expect him to scream and rant when he found out he was to be a father? Could she not have realized he would be too speechless to scream or rant? Given the defensive way she protected her stomach, the answers were clear. She did and she couldn't.

"Say something, Severus. Yell if you'd like."

He didn't want to yell. Not at all. Babies could hear sounds from outside the womb, couldn't they? He wasn't sure, but he made note to look it up. He really didn't want some of the first sounds his child heard to be the angry voice of its father. There was enough time for that later, when the child was a teenager and breaking rules.

He couldn't seem to form the words that would make it clear to Hermione how little he wanted to yell. He turned, bringing one knee up onto the bed, while leaving the other leg in its normal seated position, and stared at the area of Hermione's body that was blocked by her knees. For a few moments, the sat that way in silence.

"Severus, really. Speak."

"I'm not a dog for you to command, Hermione. I certainly hope you don't take that attitude with our child." It was far snappier than anything he had said to her in months. At least he had spoken, he thought, proud of the simple accomplishment.

"You don't have to be rude. I understand if you don't want this child, but whether you want it or not, seven months from now, we're going to be parents." Hermione couldn't help but begin to cry. That was one of the reasons that had led her to wonder if she was pregnant, earlier that day. For weeks, she had been an emotional wreck, crying at nearly every drop of a hat. Ron tripped over his own feet on the way to class and Hermione burst into tears. Harry got hurt during a Quidditch match and the normally calm Hermione became frantic, tears streaming. A potion Severus had been working on reacted badly, a loud boom carrying from his classroom to their living quarters, and Hermione sobbed, suddenly terrified that he would die while experimenting.

"Parents. Dad. I'm going to be a dad." Wonder that neither had ever really heard from him filled Severus' voice. It was an amazing thought that one day he would be called 'Dad', that he would be responsible for another life. "You can't honestly believe I don't want the child. How could I marry you and not expect this to happen one day. I didn't expect it this suddenly, obviously, but only a fool wouldn't expect you to become pregnant at some point. It's impossible to have sex and take no precautions and not know that this might be the result. Did you really think I wouldn't want the…our," he amended, "baby?"

"Well, you aren't exactly the most enthusiastic professor when you see the students, especially the younger ones. And you've never made mention of wanting a child. And honestly, Severus? You just seem like a man who'd be just as inclined to never have kids as to have them." She couldn't help but smile while she had listened to his insistence that he was angry, he sounded so precise and distant from the situation, and yet had he sounded happy or thrilled she would have wondered if it was really her husband.

"Crazy witch," he said with a shake of his head and a look that could only be described as the beginnings of a smile, "Those are almost always incompetent, snot nosed brats, who wouldn't know their caldron from their wand if they weren't told the difference. This is _our_ child. Our smart, intelligent child. There's a difference." He rose from the bed, the towel he had dried his hands on balled up in his grasp, and moved toward the laundry basket. He truly believed that no child that he and Hermione could create would be anything near disappointing, but a small thought rested in the back of his mind. He had always been a disappointment to his father, even though he had been the smartest child in all his classes and had rarely disobeyed. What if he was too much like his own father—the type to never be satisfied with anything or anyone?

A/n: Long time, no post, right? Sorry about that. I hope this makes up for the wait just a little…a tiny little bit. Happy reading.


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: Let's see…do I own this? No. Do I have any right to anything here? Absolutely not. I won't even claim the plot or the unborn child. J.K. Rowling—mastermind that she is—can have it all if she chooses. I just like to borrow the characters for a bit.**

Hermione, despite her original thoughts, had not rushed out and told everyone she saw that she was expecting. She had thought, in the brief moments before she became terrified Severus would reject their child, that she would share the news with her husband and then go right to Harry and Ron and share the news with her best friends. She didn't expect them to be thrilled for her, but she knew that eventually they would be disappointed if they weren't among the first to know. But after she had convinced herself that Severus would hate her for becoming pregnant, she had decided that much thought would have to be given to telling anyone. She knew, logically, that she should alert Professor Dumbledore and Madame Pomphrey, who, after all, would be taking care of her. She was far too happy, those first few days, to think of letting anyone else share in her joy.

She had been apprehensive, obviously, about telling Severus, but after he had assured her he was delighted with the development she let her mind begin to wonder to what it would be like to be a mother. She had hardly been old enough to be of marrying age and now she was only half a year older. She would technically be nineteen when her baby was born and she could only hope that she would be ready by that time to be a mother. And her husband may have been older, but he had less experience with children than she. She would, she decided, have to start telling people. She had to so that she could tell Mrs. Weasley and have someone who had raised nearly every sort of child there was to help her.

Her own parents, while loving, wouldn't be of much help, she ultimately decided. They had raised a witch, but they hadn't known it at the time and they wouldn't know what to tell her to do when her child crashed his or her toy broom or how to explain that most magic had to wait until school. And if the magical reasons weren't enough, her parents just didn't have all that much experience raising her—magical or not. She had had a nanny for most of her eleven years prior to school and her parents had been at work most days and she had went to bed early most nights. She loved her parents, but she didn't know them that well, if she were honest with herself. They were still extremely busy with their dental professions and Hermione had only heard from them once every few months since she had married Severus. Still, though, she felt it her responsibility to let them know first, before she shared her happy news with the others. She jotted a quick note and sent it off with the owl she shared with Severus.

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_I hope this finds you well. Severus and I are wonderful and have had great news recently. We're expecting our first child this fall. We're both excited and hope you are as well._

_Much love,_

_Hermione_

It was a simple note and only covered the basics, but it left Hermione feeling as though she were able to tell others. Her largest challenge would be telling Harry and Ron. They were still her best friends and though they had come to terms with her marriage and understood the reasons why she had married Severus—though they still didn't understand why she actually seemed happy with him—they still rarely visited her in her quarters and if she wished to see them she had to make the long trek up to Gryffindor Tower or wait until it was a night for her to dine in the Great Hall. She preferred not to announce her pregnancy in front of the entire school.

That Thursday, before she was due to eat dinner with Severus, she travelled up to the Tower and sought out her best friends. She was only about two months pregnant and the trip was still easy for her, but she could only imagine what it would be like in the coming months. Harry and Ron might have no choice but visit me in my rooms, she thought with a small laugh to herself.

When she entered the common room she didn't have to look far for her friends, they were in their customary spots in front of the fire, Ron and Harry on the couch and Ginny leaning against Harry's legs. She hadn't thought of telling Ginny at the same time as the other two—she had thought that, knowing Ginny's need to ask multiple personal questions, it would be best to tell them separately. Now she couldn't very well ask to speak to Harry and Ron without upsetting Ginny.

"Hi guys," she said as she walked toward the fire and sat down between Harry and Ron.

"'Mione, tell these two gits that your room isn't all green and black." Ginny said, with no greeting what-so-ever.

"Not until you stop calling me 'Mione, I'm not," she said with more sarcasm than anything. She had nearly given up in reforming Ginny's bad habit picked up from her twin brothers. "And even then, if they want to know anything about my rooms, they'll have to come and visit and see for themselves."

Ginny nodded in agreement, having long ago found out for herself that there was nothing wrong with visiting Hermione in the dungeons—if Snape wasn't there, of course.

"What brings you out of the cave, Hermione?" Harry asked, changing the subject to something that would hopefully be less uncomfortable.

"I have something to tell you three, actually," she said with a smile, hoping they wouldn't jump to conclusions.

"You're dumping ol' greasy and coming back to us?" Ron asked with hope in his voice.

"No, Ronald, I am not!" Hermione nearly shouted, smacking Ron's arm in indignation. "And it's Professor Snape," she added as an afterthought, having come to the conclusion that her husband deserved the respect that his title brought to him.

"What do you need to tell us?" Ginny asked, already seeming to be excited by the very prospect of news. She was normally a calm girl, the levelheadedness that Harry and Ron lacked more often than not. Hermione often found herself lamenting the fact that Ginny had seemed to take her place in their little trio, but those thoughts didn't last long.

"Let's go to the boys' room," Hermione said, standing before anyone agreed or disagreed.

"Must be really important," Harry observed as he stood and made his way behind Hermione.

On the way to the boys' dorm Hermione was gripped with a sudden fear of how her three best friends would take the news. She was thrilled, Severus was thrilled, she honestly could care less if her parents were thrilled, but she wanted her friends to at least be happy for her. She had reread the fine print on her marriage contract the other day and she and Severus had to have a child or be expecting by the time a year had passed, so she had to have the child—and it was a darn good thing she already loved it.

Once they were settled in, Ron on his bed and Ginny and Harry together at the foot of his, Hermione began pacing back and forth slightly in front of the window. After a few moments of brief starts and stops on Hermione's part—and several promptings from an impatient Ron—Hermione began.

"Severus and I…" she started once again, before stopping and glaring at Ron, "Are not divorcing, separating, or anything of the sort. We are, in fact, going to be, well, parents." She nearly whispered the last word.

"Did she say 'parents'?" Harry asked Ginny in a whisper. Ginny nodded, grinning madly from ear to ear. She was by far the most adjusted of all Hogwarts students when it came to the head girl and the potion professor's relationship. She saw this latest development as simply another step in their marriage.

"Oh, Hermione, that's wonderful!" She said, bouncing off the bed and quickly enveloping Hermione in a hug. Hermione, for her part, wasn't expecting such an enthusiastic response from anyone, not even Ginny.

"Th—thanks," she stuttered, using a free hand to move a bit of Ginny's red hair away from her face and peeking around to see Harry and Ron. They were both still in their same spots from before, though Ron's mouth was slightly more agape than before. His already pale skin had paled even more and his freckles were standing out like neon paint.

"Say something, you two," she said as Ginny let her out of the hug, "That was only the second most important announcement I've ever made in my life." Ginny had sidled back over to Harry's bed and as she sat down gave him a none too subtle poke in the shoulder.

"Hermione…" he paused, "It's just…I don't think we…you…a baby…" his words weren't coming out clearly and Hermione sighed, resigned to her thought that her best friends weren't going to be supportive as she had hoped.

"Its fine, I'm just going to go," she muttered as she strode toward the door, tears already welling in her eyes and sobs choking her breath.

Damn emotions!

**A/n: I can't believe it's been over a year since I last updated and three years since I wrote the first chapter. I don't know how many of you will be willing to pick back up on a fic that hasn't seen the light of day since this time last year, but for those of you who do come back to _Look_ and those of you who are reading it for the first time, I thank you for doing so. The very thought that people are reading what I've written is heartwarming. Please review and let me know—good or bad—how you think this chapter went. I was a little rusty writing it, but I'm happy with how it turned out.**


	15. Chapter 15

A Little Game of Chess

* * *

Word spread quickly enough about Hermione's altered state of being and it was well before she had even begun to show that most of the school knew she was expecting. "Expecting," Seveerus said to her one day, fairly out of the blue as they played a game of Wizarding Chess, a sigh to his voice, "I never fully understood why anyone ever used that term to begin with."

"It was simply a more polite way of saying a woman is pregnant, as opposed to 'knocked up'," she said with a smirk, commanding her knight forward.

"I know that," Severus responded, insult lacing his voice, not wanting to seem uneducated in any subject, "But it seems to me that its far too vague a term to use for such a specific situation. 'Hermione is expecting,' they say. Makes me want to ask all those gossiping students what exactly you're expecting. A package? An owl? Exam scores?"

Hermione giggled softly at her husband's pondering. She should have expected the ever precise Severus Snape to be baffled by such an imprecise turn of phrase. "So you're saying you'd prefer 'knocked up'," she said, tapping her fingers on the table alongside the board. He had forgotten the game, but she knew better than badger him about making his move. Improperly greeted Hippogriffs had nothing on an irritated Severus.

"Not in the least," he said, sitting back in his seat and leveling his gaze at her, "I'd much rather they simply say 'pregnant'. That is what you are, is it not?"

"No, Severus, I'm not pregnant," she said with a snigger, "I'm simply carrying a football under my robes. Would you like to see it?"

"No, you impertinent arse," he said, finally adding in a move in the game as well, "I would not." Invisible to most, Hermione saw one corner of his mouth give way to the slightest of upturnings. She had still yet to see him fully smile, teeth bared and face crinkled, or laugh at all, but she knew that she amused him, occasionally, and one of her favorite things to do lately was try and see if she could make him laugh or smile--she had come close on a few occasions.

"Don't call me an 'arse'," she shot back, making the move that brought her one spot away from checkmate. She may have protested the name, but she knew that it was more a term of enderment, like 'honey' or 'darling', than anything. She couldn't imagine Severus ever uttering those words.

"I'll call you what I want, Mrs. Snape, especially when you joke about my child," he had realized the position her last move put him, and the game, in and quickly tried to rectify the situation, to no avail. She would win this one. It was only her third win in a series of some thirty matches, but he took every loss badly.

"Well, at least you're finally calling me Mrs. Snape of your own volition," she said with a grin as she made her final move. "Checkmate."

* * *

A/n: Sorry its so short! It's not exactly what I was intending to write, but I sat down and it came to me. And again, as always, sorry for such a delayed update. Thanks for sticking with me. Much love, Liv


	16. Chapter 16

A/n: Remember: this is very much AU, which means that Deathly Hallows didn't happen. Voldemort's gone, but it happened differently (maybe one day I'll do a flashback chapter to how it all went down).

Disclaimer: Not mine, regretfully.

* * *

"Go on, then, you two."

"You knock, Harry."

"You're closer, Ron."

"But you know Snape was in the 'let's save Potter's life' business...he could very well kill me."

"Oh for the love of Merlin!" Ginny muttered, pushing her way past her brother and her boyfriend and gave three sharp raps to the wooden door. It had been a couple of weeks since Hermione had told the three of them that she was pregnant, and while Ginny had spoken to her several times, the boys had taken much longer to get over their shock and shove it through their thick skulls that their best friend was going to be a mother. Ginny had tried, unsuccessfully, to get the two of them to go to the dungeons several times, but it was only now that they had finally agreed to visit the place Hermione called home. They had held to the belief that Hermione would come to them to speak, that they wouldn't need to go out of their way to patch things up, but by the fourth or fifth day even Ron was begining to realize that that wouldn't be the case.

It had been two Fridays after Hermione's announcement that Ron had entered the common room, flopped down next to Harry on one of the sofas and said, "You know, I think we'll have to go to Snape's quarters if we want to speak to Hermione again." Ginny had just come into the common room from the girl's dormiotory when she heard this.

"About time one of you realized that," She said, hugging the books he had went to retrieve from her dorm to her chest as she looked down at the boys from over the back of the sofa. "Now, what are you going to do about it?"

"I suppose we'll tell her we're sorry and that we were simply shocked the next time we see her in the Great Hall," Harry answered.

"That could be days yet!" Ginny said, amazed by their lack of sense. "Why don't you just go visit her? I know she's down in her rooms right now."

"I'm not going to that gits' quarters," Ron insisted.

"That 'gits' quarters' are also Hermione's quarters, you git. When will you get over your fear of Snape and just go visit her already?"

"He hates us, Gin, you know that. Hermione's or not, we can't just walk down there and knock all pleasant like, and say 'excuse the years of hatred and loathing, but we'd like to sit down, have a cuppa, and be welcomed into your home'. He'd hex us a soon as we knocked."

"Then you might as well get used to the idea of never speaking to Hermione again. She's not going to come to you." Ginny uncrossed her arms, and made to go toward the portrait hole before turning to speak once more, "I'm going down there now. Would you like me to tell her you're both still being gormless about the whole thing?" As she crossed through the portrait hole, Harry turned to Ron once more, "You know, she's got a point..."

"Yeah, on her head," Ron interupped with a mutter.

"...about the whole thing," Harry continued, choosing to ignore Ron. "We should go."

"Fine, but you're doing the knocking."

"No, you can."

They continued their back and forth until the had caught up with Ginny and then picked back up on it when they had arrived at the dungeon door, but once Ginny had stepped forward and actual knocking had occurred, they both quieted quickly.

"Coming." They heard faintly from the other side of the door, and the footsteps that followed. As the door swung open, both Harry and Ron took a small step back, still seemingly unsure of their decision to come.

Hermione had been looking directly forward when she opened the door, and at first only saw Ginny. "Ginny!" she exclaimed happily, stepping slightly aside so that the redhead could enter the room.  
"I brought back that book you let..." Ginny began, but was cut off quickly by a small squeek of surprise from Hermione.

"Harry...? Ron...?" she said quietly, almost as though she didn't believe her own eyes. She stepped into the hallway and quickly pulled the two to her in a hug, knowing that their being there was sign that they had gotten over themselves and their shock (or anger, as she still believed it had been, despite Ginny's assurances that they had simply been shocked). "I've missed you," she said quietly, pulling back, but holding onto their wrists. "Come in!" she said with a smile, pulling them forward as she moved back through the doorway.

Harry and Ron moved forward as though they had forgotten how to walk, stumbling slightly over their feet and robes, gazing open mouthed at their surroundings. They entered into a bit of a foyer, which had the main door, a side door that led to Snape's classroom, and a small table that currently held Hermione's school bag. From there they followed Hermione and Ginny into a room directly off of that area, where they saw a dining table and a living room area, where Hermione was currently settling herself and motioning for the others to join her. Much to the boys' surprise the rooms they could see were not dark and dank, as they had expected, but actually much lighter and seemed to be cozy. The couches were of black leather, but there were throw pillows of bright gold and green and the rug in front of the fireplace was Gryffindor red (which Ron raised an eyebrow at, unable to believe snape would have such an enemy color in his home).

"So, Hermione," Ron said, as he sat down, "how's Sn...Professor Snape?" He had seen his parent's in polite conversation and had actually managed to pick up a few social ques over the years, and remembered that his father always asked about the absent person first.

Hermione giggled quietly at Ron's obvious attempt not to call Severus by his last name alone, "He's well," she said, "Busy with classes, as usual." she added, not used to talking about Severus with her two best friends. She had gotten over the awkward feeling with Ginny months before, not long after Ginny had boldly asked about their sex life, but she hadn't had a chance to get things to a new normal with Harry and Ron.

"And the baby?" Harry asked, the very word 'baby' feeling weird on his tongue.

"She's wonderful," Hermione answered with a warm smile, placing one hand on her small bump.

"She?" Ginny shrieked, "You didn't tell me you knew what it was!"

"That's because I don't know," she said with a laugh, "I just don't like calling the baby an 'it', so some days she's a she and some days he's a he."

"Will you be able to find out?" Harry asked, unsure of exactly how things like that happened in the wizarding world. Hermione was the first magical person he knew to be pregnant.

"Madame Pomfrey says she can tell me, but I'm not sure if I want to find out."

"We will be finding out," came a voice from a door along the wall of the fireplace that Harry and Ron hadn't noticed before.

"Severus," Hermione said, turning slightly in her seat to look at her husband, "I had forgotten you didn't have afternoon classes today."

"Obviously," he said, sneering in the direction of the two male visitors.

* * *

A/n: What's this? An update within a month? And one of semi-substantial proportions (or at least substantial for this author)? Yes, yes it is! I hope you enjoy this chapter. It feels a little different to me from the others I've written, but that's probably because I've always had a difficult time writing Harry and Ron. And I was pretty sure had never described the Snapes' quarters as I imagine them before, so I thought I should here. Anyway! Let me know what you think. I love reading reviews and hearing that people are reading and enjoying the story. If it wasn't for ya'll I probably would have stopped writing this a long time ago, but everytime I read a review it renews my interest in the story of this version of Hermione and Severus.


	17. Chapter 17

** Disclaimer: I, in no way, own the world of Harry Potter and the characters found within it. Those rights go solely to J.K. Rowling (and maybe to a few other people as well, publishers and such) and I would never wish to infringe upon her ownership. I just like borrowing and playing with the characters every once and a while.**

There was a long, awkward pause as Severus, Harry, and Ron all exchanged looks between them. Harry and Ron stared at one another, attempting to decide silently whether they should keep still or run. Severus was sending death glares at first Ron, then Harry—he had long ago decided that were he to have any competition from the two dolts, it would come in the form of the red head.

Hermione looked first to her husband, uncertain of what action he would take. They had never explicitly discussed how he would react were he to ever find Harry and Ron in their living quarters, but Hermione had assumed, ever since he had walked in on Hermione and Ginny giggling over a cup of tea, that he would be quite alright with any visitor she might have. She was, she now assumed, wrong.

Ginny watched the whole situation with an amused smirk on her face. Hermione might have been the brightest witch of her age, but Ginny knew something that Hermione wasn't quite ready to admit to herself. Ginny knew that Severus truly loved Hermione and would do nothing purposefully to upset her. 'He knows that to throw them out of here would get him at least a week's worth of the silent treatment,' she mused to herself, glancing around the room at the slightly panicked face of Hermione, the expressionless face of Snape, and the pale faces of Harry and Ron.

"As I was saying," Severus finally spoke, moving to sit in a chair slightly to the right of the fireplace. It was hard backed, tall and rigid, much like the man himself. He settled down, in a flourish of dark robes and shining shoes, with his arms crossed over his chest, "we will be finding out our child's gender."

Hermione recollected herself as her husband sat down, glad he was behaving civilly and attempting conversation. She turned to look at him as he spoke again, the look of panic that had been on her face replaced with a small look of shock. "And what makes you think I'll agree to finding out?" she asked.

"Because you're itching to find out. Why torture yourself?" He replied, a look of smug correctness on his face.

"Not a good enough reason," she shot back, "I want to be surprised."

"I insist we know." He responded, an air of finality in his voice.

"Can you believe him?" She asked suddenly, turning to her guests, "It's my body. If I don't want to know what's in it, then I should have that right."

"'Mione, you know yourself, you like to be prepared. How on earth would you handle another five months of being in the dark?" Ron said, shaking his head slightly, "And why on earth am I agreeing with Professor Snape?" He asked no one in particular.

"They're both right, Hermione. You'd know the weather for the rest of your life if you could, and you know it. Why would you even consider not finding out?" Harry added.

"Sage advice coming from the gits who couldn't even decide who would knock on the door," Ginny muttered through a small laugh.

"Hermione, if these two can see reason, I would think you would be able to." Snape said.

"I just don't want to know." Hermione insisted once again, placing her hands protectively on her stomach as though at any second Madam Pomphrey might bust out and try to examine her. "I don't care either way and I'd like to be surprised."

"What about the nursery?" Ginny piped up.

It was Severus' turn to sound a bit defensive, "What about it?"

"Well, if you don't find out what the baby is, how can you decorate the nursery before it's born?"

"Neutrals." Hermione said simply, with a shrug.

"What, exactly, are 'neutrals'?" Ron said from his corner of the sofa, his facing still reading shock from having a civil conversation with his most hated professor.

"Brown, beige, yellow, red, black, or white, Weasley." Severus shocked them all by answering the question.

"You could do Gryffindor colors, 'Mione!" Ron said, excitedly, looking as though he were the first on the planet to realize Gryffindor's house colors were gender neutral.

"We won't be having a Gryffindor theme, Ron," Hermione said, firmly. She knew that Severus wouldn't relish walking into a red and yellow room every time he checked on his child in the middle of the night.

"No, we won't," Severus agreed, "I was actually thinking dark brown and yellow."

Hermione's mouthed dropped slightly at the mention of colors and the fact that Severus had actually given them some thought.

"You could do dark brown and…" Ron began, but was cut off by Hermione.

"Silver." She said, quickly, "Dark brown and silver." She had always liked the color combination and felt the secondary Slytherin color would be much more welcome than the bright primary color of Hufflepuff.

Severus looked at his wife with the closest thing to a smile on his face than had ever been there in the presence of company. "Dark brown and silver it is then." He agreed.

"But you didn't say silver was a neutral!" Protested Ron before being shushed by both Harry and Ginny.

**A/n: Okay, so it isn't exactly the best chapter ever written. I'm pretty sure it's close to the worst, but I wanted to get something out there. I really struggle with writing Harry and Ron. I much prefer writing Snape, actually.**

**Darling readers, review, review, review! I've got another chapter itching at the forefront of my brain so let me know there's still some of you out there who want to see another chapter, please! **


	18. Chapter 18

** Disclaimer: These characters aren't mine, ya'll. The setting? That isn't mine either. I do take credit for the laundry hamper at the foot of the bed, however. That was all me.**

"Well, that was interesting," Hermione mused out loud as she pulled back the covers of the bed she shared with Severus.

"What was interesting?" Severus asked as he walked into the room from their bathroom, still towel drying his hair. He only had on his pajama bottoms, as per his usual nighttime wardrobe, and Hermione felt herself flush as she looked up at him. She tried to blame her new level of interest in sex on the hormonal changes caused by her pregnancy, but she couldn't lie that well and especially not to herself. She was attracted to her husband. In any normal situation that wouldn't have been such a bad thing—doesn't every woman want to be attracted to their spouse, after all?—but in Hermione's situation, her husband was twice her age and not the stereotypical heartthrob that girls typically trip over themselves to get into bed with.

"That whole conversation with Harry and Ron," she answered truthfully, "I was quite proud of you all. Who would have thought that one day Severus Snape and Harry Potter would have a civil conversation about quidditch." She added with a laugh, as she removed the watch she wore on her left wrist and laid it on her bedside table.

"I can be polite at times, you know," Severus tossed the towel into the hamper at the end of the bed and turned to turn down his side of the bed. "If others are polite, then I have no reason not to be."

"Are you trying to tell me if Harry had simply been polite in those early years you would have treated him as you treated everyone else?" She smirked as she continued her nightly routine, taking off her wedding band and rubbing lotion into her hands. "Wait, don't answer that!" She exclaimed, slipping her ring back on, and turning toward him quickly, a somewhat devilish smile on her face, "You would have, because you would have treated him just as badly as the rest of us! I knew there was a fair man somewhere in you, Severus Snape," she laughed loudly.

It wasn't that funny, but Hermione was caught in the moment and continued to laugh while Severus stared at her. She clutched her stomach with one hand in that way that people do when they've been overcome with a wild case of the giggles, and covered her mouth with the other, as though she were trying in vain to close it and stifle the giggling.

"Are you finished?" Severus asked in a somewhat pompous tone, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking at his wife.

"Y-y-yes," she choked out, breathing to calm herself. "I am."

"Good." He nodded his approval at his now in control wife, "And had you all been respectful I wouldn't have treated you badly. My house was always respectful and I treated them fairly."

"And by 'respectful' you mean 'arse kissers'." Hermione added to his statement.

"Perhaps." He didn't disagree. "When did you start using such language?" he asked for curiosity's sake.

"When I decided sometimes it was necessary to be that blunt with you."

"Right you are." He said, slipping between the covers and turning on his side to face her.

"I'm always right." She said with a smirk as she mimicked his movements, settling in to mirror him.

"Are you now? And what else are you right about?"

"You're going to come over here and kiss me."

Severus thought for a moment before sliding the short distance toward her and sitting up slightly only to lean over once more so that he was hovering a bit above her. "Right again, Mrs. Snape," he whispered in her ear, before making her prediction true.

**A/n: another bit o' fluff for all you fluff fans out there. It isn't much of a chapter in way of progress, but it shows you a bit of their relationship. Next time, we revisit the debate of whether or not to find out the gender of the baby. Tell me your thoughts on what they should have! I haven't decided yet and am always up for input.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: Don't own, kay?**

Things had been, more or less, peaceful the past two weeks in the Snape household. Harry and Ron had visited once more, with Ginny, of course, and Severus, though not going so far as to have another conversation with them, had been well behaved when he ran into them on his way to the bedroom from his office. Ginny had been down several more times without the boys, having volunteered to help Hermione plan the nursery.

They had settled on brown and silver for the colors for the room, but Ginny had managed to sneak a small stuffed lion into a basket Hermione had labeled "Baby Things". The room, which was proving no problem at all to add to their quarters—the castle really was the most ever evolving building Hermione had ever seen—and Dumbledore added a few protective charms over the room so that it would never disappear or move as the staircases often did.

The furniture was of dark mahogany that Severus indirectly selected. He had been the one to decide the bedroom furniture many years prior and Hermione had wanted a continuous feel between the two rooms. She decided that the best way to do this, beyond the continuing silver color, would be to match the wood tones. So, while he insisted often that the decisions about the nursery were up to Hermione, he never-the-less found himself tied more and more to the room, including a small water color print that Hermione found one day when searching for a new book to read among his ample shelving.

The print had been stuck sideways among the books, it's frame blending in with the spines of the slightly dusty books that lined the shelves. When Hermione found it she found it odd that a book would have a wooden spine, but chalked it up to wizarding customs she had yet to learn. Out of curiosity, she pulled the book from the shelf, expecting it to be quite ancient and possible written in the wizard equivalent of old English or the like. What she found was nothing near old English, or nothing near a book at all.

There was little about the painting that was remarkable when Hermione first found it, though after dusting it a bit, she did see something there that made the small picture special. It wasn't a large painting, and it wasn't ornate. It really probably couldn't have even been called a painting at all, as it was more calligraphy than anything. Within the frame there were two 's' letters, entwined and circling each other intricately. There was nothing serpent like about these letters, no matter how much one would think two entwining 's'es would resemble the animal. The background was a dark green, the letters a bright silver, colors to correspond with Severus' house, colors to predict the life he would lead. The back simply had 'Severus Snape' printed on it, and there was no indication of who had painted such a crest. Hermione found herself wondering about the creator of such a simple, yet elegant picture, wondering if this dabbling in paint was yet another secret of his that she hadn't yet discovered or if perhaps his mother, in a fit of loving pride, had crafted the painting for her only son. Hermione didn't yet know, but she did know that this picture, in its simple frame, would be the decoration hanging over her child's crib.

"Where did you get that?" Hermione jumped in the seat she had taken when she began looking over the painting. She hadn't expected Severus home from his night of patrolling the halls for at least another hour. She had become accustom to not sleeping until he came in on these later nights, which had been her entire reason behind searching for a new book to read.

She calmed herself and met the glare on her husband's face head on, "This?" she asked, turning the frame in her hands so that he could see the front and the double 's'.

"Yes, that. What else would I be asking about?"

"My nightgown, perhaps. It is new after all." She held up a corner of the somewhat flimsy article of clothing, which hid her burgeoning bump not at all, and smiled slowly, hoping to distract her husband from the issue at hand.

"The frame in your hands, not the nightgown," Severus responded in a tone of slight irritation. It had become a new favorite game of Hermione's to see how easily he could be distracted. It irritated him beyond imagine simply because he was rather easily distracted, or so he was finding.

"I found it on the bookshelf," Hermione explained casually, bringing the frame down to rest on her lap.

"I thought I threw it away years ago," Severus said with a quick shake of his head, as though trying to rid himself of the thought that he had been careless about something he had meant to do.

"I'm glad you didn't."

"And why, pray tell, would you be glad I didn't throw it away?"

"I want to use it in the nursery."

"You can't."

"And why not?"

"Because I said you can't."

"Severus Snape, you should know by now that kind of logic isn't logic at all and won't work on me."

"It works on everyone else." He said in a huff, still unable to accept the fact that Hermione wasn't 'everyone else' anymore.

"You'll have to come up with a better reason than 'because I said so', if you don't want me using it."

"Fine. Because the child's initials might not even be the same as mine. It wouldn't make any sense to use a double 's' picture over a child's bed whose name might not start with an 's'."

"Who painted it?" Hermione asked, suddenly, ignoring his second reason.

"It's not important."

"I'd like to know."

"I said it isn't important."

"If it isn't important then it shouldn't be a big deal to tell me."

"Hermione, it isn't important, stop asking."

"Just tell me who painted it, Severus. Tell me why you tried to hide it."

"My mother," he said quietly, almost menacingly, moving forward toward his still seated wife, and in one swift motion snatching the painting out of her hands. He took one look at the green and silver front and carelessly tossed the frame over his shoulder.

"Severus!" Hermione shrieked, when she heard the unmistakable sound of breaking, and stood, attempting to go to the picture and assess the damage but finding Severus in front of her, "Move," she demanded, trying to push him out of the way, but failing.

"Why can't you leave well enough alone?" he asked quietly, placing his hands on her upper arms and holding her in place. "We're going along, perfectly fine, and you have to do something! Why do you always seem to be challenging me?" Severus looked down at Hermione, genuine curiosity registering on his face.

"I was just looking for a book, Severus, just a book. I can't help it if your idea of hiding something is to store on your bookshelf were anyone could find it."

"No one found it for nearly 20 years and then you come along. If you hadn't…" he wasn't able to finish what he began before Hermione interrupted him.

"If I hadn't what? Gotten used to staying up until you came home? Hadn't needed something to read? Hadn't moved in? Hadn't married you?" She asked the last in a quiet voice that belied her hidden thoughts. She had, ever since they had been married, worried that Severus resented her for interrupting his bachelor lifestyle. He had seemed content to remain single for the rest of his life. He had had his one love, Lilly Potter, and he had seemed to come to terms with never loving again. Hermione was under no illusion. Severus might care for her, but he had never once said that he loved her. He had never done anything to make her feel unwelcome, aside from his previous habit of still referring to her by her maiden name, but Hermione had always had the nagging feeling that he resented her. She had kept the thoughts to herself, not even mentioning them to Ginny, but now she was slowly beginning to cry as she looked up at the man she had come to love, who she would have sworn on the life of her unborn child, didn't love her in return. "Guess what, Severus Snape," she forced out through slow moving tears and a nose that was already stuffing up, "you _had_ to get married as well and _I_ wasn't the one who did the asking." She jerked herself out of his hands and marched to the bedroom door, turning before she entered, "It's no more my fault than it is yours that we're in this marriage," she said forcefully, and then entered the room, slamming the door behind her.

**A/n: So, this didn't end up exactly where I expected it to, but maybe that's a good thing. There's more angst in this chapter than I ever expected to write. I'm sorry if it seems implausible that he would get so upset over a small painting, but it makes sense to me that if he hated his childhood because of his father and his mother was the reason they had remained with his father, then he would have conflicting emotions about loving his mother and hating her for her decisions. Let me know what you thought about this chapter. We'll return to our regularly scheduled silly, lovely, fluffy chapters soon, I promise.**

**And p.s. can we just recognize the fact that I've now added three chapters in less than a week? That's a record for me. I mean, come on, I was the girl who didn't update for a year! And can I just say you're all awesome for sticking with me and this little story even though I'm crap at updating regularly?**


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